


Old Friend

by Maple33



Series: Oneshots and Drabbles: Markiplier Egos [3]
Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Mansion Fic, My First AO3 Post, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple33/pseuds/Maple33
Summary: At the Iplier mansion, Dark is having his 'me time' in his office (NO SMUT I FRICKN SWEAR-) and he immediately realizes that he is not alone in his office. A certain someone has a quick case of the madness disease and arguments ensue.





	Old Friend

A man in a three piece suit, leaned back in his chair and puffed his cigar. Inhale. Exhale. The smoke that went out of his mouth was similar to a dragon’s, intimidating and unnerving. The smoke traveled to the ceiling. He took it out of his mouth gently and tapped the cancer stick on the side of his ashtray; grey, fiery ashes floating down into the bowl. His brown eyes gazed around his private study, analyzing every nook and cranny. Their were bookshelves to the left of him and filing  cabinets to the right of him that were near the door. Directly in front of him, there were two soft chairs without any arm rests. The pattern was just a simple red color, making it the center of attention throughout the whole room. 

“Wilford,” The monotoned man spoke to the most left corner of the room, “I know you’re here.” A deep sigh emitted the room and a man in a yellow button up shirt and pink suspenders walked to the man and sat down in the chair. “Now tell me, what do you want?” The man stated as he took another puff from his cigar.

Wilford adjusted his suspenders and looked at the terrifying man in the eyes, his own not wavering. “Dark, I have a great idea for brining Mark to his knees.” Dark put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Is this ‘great idea’ of yours like any of the other endeavors you’ve had over the years?” Dark looked at the pink mustache man and saw that his smile was strained instead of how it was earlier. Dark opened his mouth but was quickly interrupted by the bumbling idiot, Wilford. 

“I swear it won’t end up like project B.E.E.S… although it was a great idea to throw a beehive at-” Dark snuffed out his cigar, abruptly stood up and then walked calmly over to Wilford, who sweated profusely.

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m talking, Wilford,” Dark said while popping his neck slightly to the left. Wilford comically gulped and tugged on his collared shirt. He looked to the side, not meeting the intimidating man’s piercing gaze.

“What do you mean interrupting? I wasn’t-”

“Wilfor-”

“I’m just saying that-”

“Wil-”

“It’s just an idea that I ha-”

“William!” Dark roared, his red and blue auras growing restless with each passing second. Wilford’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a snarl. He stood up and flinged his chair against the wall, his pink mustache curling more on the sides as his temper rose higher and higher. Wilford then stomped over to the monochromed man and prodded his finger on Dark’s chest. Dark glared at Wilford, his eyes daring him to continue. 

“Don’t call me by that name,  **ever** ,” Wilford’s finger dug deeper with each word, his eyes slightly turning pink.

“Sit down,” Dark demanded, his eyes never leaving Wilford’s. 

“No.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me correctly.  **Sit. Down** .” 

Blood curdling laughter abruptly appeared into the room, making anyone who was listening stand on edge. The laughter’s pitch went higher as tears fell from Wilford’s pink eyes. “Who’s William?!” He reached into his back pocket, “My name is Wilford, Wilford  **MOTHERLOVING** Warfstache and I don’t take no shit from  _ nobody _ .” He pulled out a golden handgun (which was concealed from his pants). He waved it around irresponsibly, a tight grin etched onto his face. “You think you know what’s best? Well, Ooobviously you don’t,  _ Damien _ !” He points the gun at Dark, “Wilford Warfstache knows what’s best.”

Dark plucked the gun out of Wilford’s possession and pointed it at the ceiling, firing the gun. Wilford’s eyes stopped glowing pink and the look that Dark gave him made scramble onto the other chair’s seat, his hands on his knees while looking straight forward. Dark went back in front of his desk, still not sitting down and slammed his hands on it. “ _ William _ ,” Dark hissed as his eyes turned black, “I will not tolerate  _ your _ madness in  _ my  _ office.” Wilford nodded slowly, his eyes looking anywhere except Dark’s, his hands trembling. Dark sighed and sat down, arms folded into his lap, and looked up at the trembling man before him. “I’ve had enough of this, Wilford. Now tell me, what is your grandiose idea?” Wilford looked into Darks eyes and mumbled something but, Dark couldn’t hear it. “Oh come on, you’ve wasted all of this time and effort for nothing? Speak up.”

Wilford spoke while twirling the ends of his mustache and his left hand gestured to the projector the magically appeared out of nowhere, “I believe that we should corral up different people of all ages and use them as leverage against the one and only Markimoo.” Wiford noticed that Dark was paying more attention and he gained more confidence. “We could also get Mr. Ol’ Slendy up on this and a few other people that we both know so, we all can gather them up by the bundle and lock them away!”

Dark brushed his black hair away from his face and gave a little hum, looking towards the the projector that was floating in the air by magic. “Although I find it rather amusing that bringing in random outsiders, we should bring in his fans. It will have more impact on Mark and his little backstabbing crew. Also, no Slender man. We don’t need help from the low lifes like him.” Wilford let out a “why not” and Dark stood up again but stayed behind his desk. “It shows that we are weak and easy to kill off. We need to be tactical about this and besides, do you want to perish by the man who managed to hurt you and your lover?”

Wilford's hand fell to his side, his eyes turned into full of hurt and sadness while his smile curled into a frown, “No, I don’t.” 

Dark snapped his fingers and the projector and the white screen shimmered away into black smoke. “Good.” He walked to the door and put his hands behind his back, “You have twenty four hours to prepare and then you present to the others tomorrow afternoon. Do not test my patience.” He pulled it open, gesturing Wilford to leave his office. Wilford slowly got up out of his chair and then trudged to the door, looking down at the sleek (it’s been waxed recently so please, be careful) floor. Dark eyes softened and his appearance glowed a calming blue. “Old friend, I-” Dark was interrupted by The King Of The Squirrels running down the hallways and screaming “Peanut butter.” As he looked back, Wilford was gone. He ran his fingers through his hair and then began to build back up his demeanor. Dark’s auras briskly merged back into one whole again, balancing out like the yin and yang. He closed his office door and went back to is desk, sitting down slowly as he opened a drawer and grabbed a black folder. He sat it on his desk and opened it, six letters sitting in the pockets which all were still crisp and white; just like the day those poor souls people had received them. 

 

******Bonus** **:**

Google grabbed the broom and started sweeping in the hallways, his red eyes scanning the room for any dust bunnies or any trails of food that the egos neglected to pick up themselves. He saw some dried bits of peanut butter near Dark’s office door (which was probably left by The king but he’ll yell at him later) and started to walk over there, the dustpan held firmly in his left hand. Once he got near the door he heard sobbing by his desk so, leaving the cleaning supplies and the dried bits of peanut butter behind; he opened the door and what he saw will forever change of how he sees Dark.

The room was in ruins. Books were pulled out of every shelf, files and papers littered the floor, the two ruby chairs were turned over. One was broken into smithereens while the other looked like he just turned it over. Pens and pencils were all over his desk, some falling off of the edge. The ashes from the ashtray were scattered all around the bottom of his desk along with some photographs of men that looked like Wilford and Damien. There was also a group picture of the identical (ish) men posing right next to Mark and making silly faces. 

Google slowly entered the room, looking for the man who was responsible of this mess. Immediately, he saw Dark slouched in the corner holding a bottle of what looked like aged wine but, Google doubted it was. As he walked closer to Dark, he saw that he was holding a photo of someone that he hasn’t seen before. He crouched down to Dark and scanned him so he could be sure not to start any medical procedure if he didn’t need any. Dark’s pulse and pupils were fine and he looked like he was in a daze so, he didn’t need to do anything. He looked to the picture and saw a woman in the picture with the Damien look alike. Being the curious robot he was, he scanned the pictures and... he found nothing. It was like it didn't even happen so... Did it?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on this website and I was wondering if you could give me constructive criticism. I hope you're having a nice day, lovelies! :D


End file.
